


Take my heart

by IzumiLover



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Gen, Hunt Gone Wrong, Werewolves, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 08:16:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15432810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IzumiLover/pseuds/IzumiLover
Summary: Dean and new-and-improved Ketch have trouble hunting werewolves. Short fic in three parts.





	Take my heart

1  
“Ketch?” Dean’s voice was deep and raspy, too loud in that dark corridor. He didn’t care. The werewolves probably heard his pounding heartbeat as soon as both had crossed the house threshold, so his call echoing through the walls didn’t add danger to their situation.  
Werewolves hiding in a huge victorian manor abandoned century ago shouldn’t be a big deal, but now Dean was searching alone for the older man. He hadn’t call, and he always would call, even if it was only to point out some  
condesdecent remark in that posh, broad accent that used to drive him mad. But from the talking device he had in his ear, he only got silence. He didn’t like it. Not in the slightest.  
If one year ago somebody would told him he was going to look for him so worriedly, he had laugh to tears. That same man who had helped to manipulate his mother and almost had killed him and his brother Sam? That fucking psycho? Well, that had to be a fucking joke. But there was Dean Winchester, searching for him, trying not to make any unneccesary noises, despite his heartbeat pounding so hard werewolves probably could hear it from outside the house. Well, he couldn’t control that. Ketch could, somehow. That insane British Men of Letters almost military training, or beyond that, even. But with a loud heartbeat or not, the werewolves had found him first, and to them that heart must taste delicious, Dean thought, and his own heartbeat spiked slightly. Sweat started to sting in his eyes, mixing with the dried blood near his temple -one of the werewolves had smashed him to a wall just before he put a silver bullet in the middle of its glowing eyes-.  
“Ketch?!”  
No response. But he didn’t need one.  
Dean saw the blood, drops starting a dark trail from a torn carpet and towards the long corridor, dissapearing in the darkness. Fuck.  
Maybe it’s from one of those stinky fleabags, he thought; but his gut told him it wasn’t, and he always trust his gut.  
 

Dean followed the trail, flashlight in one hand, gun firmly gripped in the other. He tried to steady his breathing and slow down his heartbeat, alert for  
the slightest sound.  
That’s way too much blood… Please not him, let it be one of those oversized  
puppies…  
He found him facing down where the carpet was nothing but a ragged tatter,  
just beside the stairwheel.  
“No. No no no…”  
Dean approached him from behind, flinging himself on the knees. He put  
flashlight and gun back to his jeans’ rear pouches and rolled the older man  
over; his eyes were shut closed, blood coming from somewhere in his scalp,  
lips slightly parted in a lifeless expression. He shook him one time. Twice.  
Nothing.  
“Hey- Hey! C’mon… Don’t do this now…”  
A cold panic started to surge inside Dean. He hold his neck, searching for a  
pulse. Not the whole hand, just two fingers is enough, like he had taught him  
once. His pulse was a thready, weak fluttering. All that blood loss. He’s going  
into shock, his brain snapped.  
“Come back, man, c’mon. We gotta get out here… Damn!”.  
Lack of response was starting to freak him out. He wasn’t going to let him  
there to die -maybe if somebody had asked him a year ago, that would have  
been a wise choice, yeah, their relationship was way too complicated-, but  
standing there with him very likely meant both of them would end as dog  
food. He picked up his phone and as his brother’s name appeared in the  
screen, he called. Sam picked it after three tones.  
“Hey. Dean. Where are you?”  
“In the fucking pet shelter, and it’s meal time. We found them but… we could  
use some help. Ketch’s been wounded. Lots of bleeding. I think he’s going into  
shock, still breathing, I’ll try to patch him up so both can get our tasty hearts  
out of here, pronto”.  
“I’ll be right there. Mum and I just killed a few in the old lighthouse”.  
 

The lighthouse. That meant he was a bit far, maybe too far to arrive in time.  
This game is now set to hard mode, Dean thought. No cheats allowed.  
“Alright. Hit the gas, you have my consent”  
Sam scoffed.  
“Okay. Please be careful”  
Dean hang up and went back to Ketch. Before he could shake him once more  
time, the older man let out a strangled, whimpering noise.  
“Hey. You awake, princess?” Dean tried to sound harsh, but damn if he  
wasn’t relieved.  
“Hello there” Ketch muttered; a brief smile crossed his lips before he winced  
in pain. “It’s the arm. Left.”  
Dean located the wound, where the werewolf claws had pierced skin and  
muscle. Brachial artery. That wasn’t good.  
“I killed her, but she- her claws-” Ketch gasped for breath. “Sorry, I can’t-”  
Dean tore a piece of his shirt and stopped for a moment before he tied it  
above the wound.  
“Okay, this may hurt.”  
“Be my guest”.  
Ketch was out like a light when Dean finished setting a torniquet, and  
probably it wasn’t because of the pain. Dean took his pulse again, and he was  
sure it was faster and weaker than last time. Torniquet wasn’t of any use  
when he had lost too much blood already, but losing even more would kill  
him instantly, and they didn’t have a transfusion set in the med kit -  
surprisingly, given the size of the tools package Ketch used to wear to hunts-.  
There was a shot of epinephrine, though. That would save them some time.  
He tore Ketch’s shirt open and searched for the apical pulse; when he located  
it, he removed the needle cap with his teeth… It was quick. Ketch’s back  
arched as he gasped, his eyes focused on Dean again.  
“Ouch-”.  
“Hello again. You think you’re able to walk? Sam is coming with more help,  
but we need to get out of here.”  
 

It was too much to process in his confused state, but Ketch nodded clumsily,  
his eyes going out of focus again. “I can try.”  
“Good. Let’s go.”


End file.
